


The Visit (Overwatch) (Widowmaker x [Male] Reader)

by doubleoaidan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 23:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleoaidan/pseuds/doubleoaidan
Summary: It seems like a normal Friday night until a shadowy figure appears outside your window. The mysterious and deadly Widowmaker has plans for you...





	The Visit (Overwatch) (Widowmaker x [Male] Reader)

It was a lazy Friday evening for you in Minneapolis, Minnesota. You’d come home from work and promptly flopped on your bed to watch some TV. Normally you’d head to the gym after work, but Friday evenings were for relaxing and having fun. Besides, you just… didn’t feel up to it. Your buddies were all out at some bar, filling themselves with cheap beer and trying to chat up women… maybe even succeeding. You’d almost never known what success looked like, and no amount of workouts, cologne, or nice dress shirts seemed to be able to change that.

Besides, you could lie to yourself for a while and say that you were happy alone. One less person to worry about. You didn’t need anyone tying you down or holding you back, and that sad little feeling in the pit of your stomach went away after a few hours of video games, anyways.

Tonight, the farthest you’d be going would be the corner convenience store, if that, and no one would care if you stopped by in an old T-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans. But you weren’t particularly hungry, and there was food in the fridge anyways.

There wasn’t even much on TV. It was mostly news, and all bad.

“The assassination of Omnic activist and spiritual leader Tekhartha Mondatta has lead to strife and conflict across the United Kingdom-”

Click.

“Human-Omnic riots continue in Paris-”

Click.

“Another Korean MEKA division reported lost in the battle against the South China Sea Omnium-”

Click.

And then there was the adult film channel.

Click.

You turned off the TV and sighed, the holoscreen fading out with a little zap. The world was messed up, that was for sure. If only Overwatch was still around to help.

You were on the way to making up your mind to take a nap and wait for later when you noticed a shadowy figure lowering themselves down in front of your window.

You jumped, and stumbled backwards behind the bed, as if expecting it to protect you in your attempt to get a better look at the figure.

They hung from a wire, crouched, upside down, rather like a spider. Their figure was slim and feminine, and over their eyes they wore a set of digital goggles that glowed with seven red lights in place of eyes, emphasizing their arachnidian appearance.

No, it couldn’t be.

It was the Talon assassin from the news, the sniper who had killed Tekhartha Mondatta and others and showed no remorse, no regret, her very skin blue and cold as ice. Widowmaker.

You nearly froze in fear, unsure what to do next. Call the police, or just run? Either way, she would follow you. A single question burned in your mind: why would Talon want to kill me? You were a chemical engineer: well paid and educated, perhaps, but hardly a threat to the organization.

Widowmaker spoke, and when she did, it was a single word, uttered in perfectly smooth French.

“Bonjour.”

You jumped, your mind racing. Had… to do… something.

“Open the window, cherie.”

What?!

You nearly shouted. “Wh-why the hell should I do that?!”

“Because I want to come in.”

You drew back. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so some time ago, and from a much greater distance.”

You considered this, and then became bold. “How do you know I won’t just call the police?”

“Because if you did that, I would simply disappear, and you would never see me again. And something tells me you don’t want that.”

You’re a bit intrigued at this point. “Wh-why not?”

“Because you are intrigued by me, are you not?”

You pause, unsure as how to respond.

“Please. Open the window.”

You slowly walk over to the window, open it, and stand back.

Widowmaker swings in, retracting her grappling hook, shutting the window, and closing the blinds with inhuman efficiency and precision. She wears a skintight purple jumpsuit with grey and black details across the legs and arms, zipped up to her neck, with a black tactical harness. black gloves and boots, and a grappling hook gauntlet on her left forearm. A long ponytail of deep purple hair hangs down her back, partially obscuring a small black spider-shaped drone and a large projectile sniper rifle hung on the harness. Her right forearm is bare, exposing the smooth, pale blue skin and a black tattoo that reads “cauchemar”.

“Merci,” she says, and the goggles retract back onto her forehead, giving you a better look at her face.

She is… incredibly beautiful. The skin of her face is the same smooth, pale blue of her exposed forearm, stretched over her high, sharp cheekbones. Her full lips are a soft purple, and her eyes a golden yellow, like a cat’s.

You have an incredible urge to call the police or run, but something is telling you not to, and for some reason, you are listening to it.

“Hello,” you begin, uncertainly. “My name is-”

“Y/N. I know,” she says, taking her sniper rifle off her back and leaning it against the wall. “You are originally from [your country]. You work at Jason Chemical. Your interests include [your interests]. You are currently single, and have been for some time.”

You pause, unsure how to respond to this.

“I am correct, am I not?”

You nod.

The ghost of a smile crosses Widowmaker’s lips, and she undoes the straps on the tactical harness and sets it next to the rifle.

You decide to be bold again. “Why are you here?”

Widowmaker sighs, as if annoyed. “Because, cherie, I am not the perfect assassin you envision. I still fall prey to human urges.”

You still have no idea where this is going. “What sort of urges?”

Widowmaker sighs again, and removes her goggles, setting them next to the harness and rifle. “Urges to socialize, to make friends… to make love.”

?!?!?!

This can’t be real.

You pause. “Wait… you want… to have sex… with me?”

She sighs. “You Americans are so vulgar. Yes, I want to have sex with you. Now get on the bed. And take your clothes off for goodness sakes. I can’t stand a man who wants to keep his clothes on during sex.”

You obey, removing your shirt and jeans, stripping down to your boxers, and laying down comfortably on the bed. Widowmaker watches with great interest, her eyes running over your fit body, doubtless undressing you in her mind as you do so yourself.

As you do, she removes her boots, gloves, gauntlet, and socks, and then turns around, her jumpsuit still clinging to the slender curves of her body.

You hear a zipper, and she smiles at you over her shoulder, unzips the jumpsuit and steps out of it to reveal a pair of panties and the straps of a bra across her back, both done in black lace.

You breathe in, and she turns to face you. Her underwear consists of three small triangles of black fabric, her legs, midriff, and cleavage edged in lace. She smiles at you again, her dancer’s body nearly bare in front of you, her golden eyes full of arousal and hunger.

“I should hope I am not your first, cherie,” she whispers. “I prefer men with experience.”

“Not quite my first,” you mumble, and she hears.

“That is all right,” she replies. “I can teach you.”

Widowmaker wastes no time in climbing up on top of the bed and on top of you. Her skin is soft, but cool to the touch, like the back side of a pillow in the summer heat. It’s actually quite pleasant. You lift your hands up to hold her waist, and she runs her fingers down your body, leaving little trails of cold down your legs and torso. You stiffen for a second, and give a small gasp of arousal.

“Are you ready, cherie?” she whispers, her fingers gently grasping your shoulders.

“Yes,” you answer, and she closes her eyes and presses her soft, cool lips to yours.

* * * * *

When you wake, the lithe, blue-skinned woman is gone. Widowmaker has disappeared, probably living up to her name, but there is a handwritten note on the back of a piece of junk mail lying on your pillow.

"So sorry I had to leave, cherie. Duty calls, and Talon does not like to be kept waiting. I wish I could say that I will return soon, but that would likely be a lie. The world is vast, and my responsibilities are many. Do not despair, though. I am no vulgarian. I always return to a lover if I have enjoyed them enough, and you have warmed my cold heart. Do not worry about contacting me. When the time is right, I will find you."


End file.
